


your heart's a slow learner

by lizifer



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Canon Compliant, F/M, M/M, Pre-Epilogue, The Raven King Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-17 00:49:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10582959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizifer/pseuds/lizifer
Summary: Blue and Gansey were ushered into separate exam rooms more or less simultaneously, which left Adam alone with Orphan Girl, Henry Cheng, and Ronan Lynch.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from lovers' _The Sirens Sing_. 
> 
> Thank you to Anne for reading this over and her patience with me! <3

Blue and Gansey were ushered into separate exam rooms more or less simultaneously, which left Adam alone with Orphan Girl, Henry Cheng, and Ronan Lynch.

Adam waved off a nurse who was trying to look at the scratches on his face. “I’m fine, they're shallow, take care of _them_ ,” he insisted, pointing in the direction that they had taken Gansey and Blue. 

The nurse huffed at him and retreated and Ronan muttered something under his breath. All Adam caught was his own name, and the harsh, unforgiving consonants of Ronan's favourite curses. 

He stood, lost and untethered, without their quest to plan for and steady himself against. Purposelessness wasn't a thing that Adam knew how to deal with. 

Adam sunk into one of the uncomfortable waiting room chairs, glancing over to see Ronan sneering at a formidable-looking nurse, the third so far to try to convince him to get looked at. This one failed much like the first two, and she turned to look at Adam and Cheng. “You boys better keep an eye on him.”

Cheng, his phone against one ear, paused his conversation and shook his head, holding up one hand in refusal. “Not me. He bites.”

Ronan grinned, savage. There was no joy in it.

Adam nodded wearily, not trusting his voice. 

Bruises the shape of Adam's hands were blooming on Ronan's throat, dark and damning. Adam looked away, stomach churning.

Cheng was on the phone with his mother, and as Ronan slouched into the chair beside Adam, Adam held out his hand. “Give me your phone.” He was careful not to look at Ronan this time. He didn't have time to have a crisis right now, didn't want to confront the fact that the fragile, happy thing between them was probably shattered forever.

Ronan handed it to him, and then hunched down in his chair, pulling anxiously at his wristbands. He put one between his teeth. 

Adam began methodically updating everyone's family. He called 300 Fox Way first, to tell them that Blue was mostly okay (swallowing past the memory of his hands snatching at her face, her stitches tearing and thick blood dripping). His voice trembled just slightly. That it was over. That they were all going to be okay. He had to be careful not to let his voice catch on the last bit. The lie.

Ronan shifted in his chair, his restless hands going still. 

He texted Declan that they were okay and things seemed to be over. He asked if Matthew was all right. He tilted the phone to Ronan to let him read the response. 

Ronan took the phone from his hand and started to text back. 

Adam still couldn't look directly at him, so he looked at Orphan Girl instead. Her eyes were huge, sharp. “It's all okay,” he reassured her. 

His worn, bitten watch was still on his wrist. He held it out to her. “You can have this back. Thank you for letting me borrow it.” He couldn't really spare it, but he had to do something to soothe the dark, toothful ache of guilt and grief gnawing on his heart. 

Without a word, she took it, and Adam fastened it around her wrist.

As he sat back, Ronan gently grasped Adam's right wrist, his thumb stroking delicately over the reddened and raw skin where Blue had bound him. “Don't,” Adam warned, rather sharper than he meant to, pulling free and turning away. “Give me the phone back, I want to see what they're saying on the news.”

Ronan did as requested, but the intent way he was watching Adam made Adam's chest hurt. Adam ignored it, scrolling through newsfeeds and websites. 

\---

It felt like no time at all and also felt like years before Gansey and Blue were released back to them. Gansey was uncharacteristically quiet, but at least he had a clean bill of health.

Everyone trooped back to the cars, a small and weary army, worn thin from their battles. Blue and Gansey with Henry, Adam and Orphan Girl with Ronan.

Adam hung back to allow Orphan Girl to take the passenger seat, but Ronan shook his head abruptly. “Back’s safer.”

This surprised a disbelieving laugh out of Adam. It sounded thin, strange. Adam shivered. Ronan looked at him. “I’m not joking. Get in, Parrish.”

Adam got in. 

He leaned his head against the window, watching houses flash by, until his eyes felt too heavy to keep open. He reached for Cabeswater out of some faint, foolish hope. It had been clear that Cabeswater wasn't new to dying. Ronan hadn't dreamt it from nowhere, after all.

Then he stretched for the power of the ley line, wondering if he could still feel it without Cabeswater connecting them. 

Adam inhaled slightly as he sensed a faint, quiet pulse. So slight it might have been wishful thinking. Strange, distant, confused? Smaller than usual, somehow. But also larger, and younger. And close, even though the trip to the hospital had taken them off the path of the ley line. 

“Hey, asshole,” Ronan cut in, drumming his fingers on the gearshift. “You have to stay awake long enough to wash the blood off your face. Bare minimum.”

“Shit. Sorry,” Adam said, too tired and guilty and frayed to cover his accent. Ronan had been awake at least a day longer than Adam. He turned his head, still leaning against the window and looked at Ronan.

Ronan didn't look back, instead staring out at the road ahead. Adam thought of him in the same place last night (two nights ago? Adam wasn't at all sure what day it was), hands clenched on the steering wheel, saying I’m not going to lose anyone else. 

“Ronan,” Adam said, voice low and unsteady. “I’m so sor--”

“The fuck are you apologizing for?” Ronan interrupted, sharp and harsh. He didn't look away from the road, but his brows furrowed in a frown, his hands tightening on the wheel and gear shift. “Don't.”

Adam didn't say anything more, but he kept his eyes on Ronan. 

\---

Adam couldn't tell if it was because of what they’d all been through, or just Gansey's need for his friends laid bare, without the artifice disguising the depth and breadth of it, but Gansey wouldn't let any of them stray further than arm's reach, at first. 

Ronan disengaged first, taking Orphan Girl into Noah’s bedroom. Adam could hear his low voice talking to her, a soothing cadence through the door. “You don't have to sleep, but stay in here and stay out of trouble,” Adam heard Ronan say. “Don't fucking eat anything that isn't food.” 

Adam was next, standing up from his seat on the edge of Gansey's bed, stepping back, giving Gansey’s shoulder a firm squeeze.

He hovered near the desk, watching as Cheng also drew away, collapsing onto the couch. Blue was sitting up against the headboard, stroking one hand through Gansey's hair, the other rubbing the back of his neck. They looked perfect, too sweet to bear.

“I-- I should go,” Adam started, though that was the last thing he wanted. The thought of leaving Blue, leaving Gansey and Ronan right now was excruciating. Where was his car? He didn't remember seeing it in the lot. It was probably back at the Barns. Fuck.

“Don't be stupid,” Blue said, not looking up from Gansey.

“Yes,” Gansey agreed. His eyes were closed. “Jane is right. Adam, stay.” 

Adam stayed. There was no room on the couch, Cheng had claimed it unceremoniously and was currently sprawled across it and scrolling through his phone, face lit blue. Adam rolled his eyes. Typical.

He would rather sleep on the cold concrete floor than share with Blue and Gansey. And Ronan deserved to have his bed to himself after what he had been through in the last few days.

Adam wondered if Orphan Girl was a restless sleeper. He wondered if she kicked. He winced, imagining a hoof to the shin in the dead of night. Maybe he could sleep in the back of the BMW. 

Noah's bedroom door opened, and Adam jumped. This was the perfect time to clean the blood from his face and hands. He brushed by Ronan without looking at him. 

The hum of the fridge filled the room, and with the door closed, Adam almost felt like he could breathe again. He ran the water as hot as he could stand it, roughly scrubbed the blood from his cheek and from under his nails. 

Most of it was his own, Adam reminded himself fiercely. He hadn't killed Gansey. He _had_ nearly killed Ronan. 

And Ronan hadn't fought him. Wouldn't, or couldn't. 

Adam looked at himself in the mirror. Ronan wasn't a game; Adam wasn't playing. But he still felt like he’d lost.

He turned off the water and emerged from the bathroom. Ronan was waiting for him. “Come on. You need to sleep.” 

It was true, but Ronan was the one who had sat awake in the front seat of his car all night. Ronan needed it more than Adam did. 

Too tired to argue, Adam allowed himself to be led into Ronan's room. 

Chainsaw was outside the window, tapping on it with her beak. Ronan opened it; she fluttered inside with an irritated squawk. 

Ronan pulled off his shirt and Adam stared. The sharp edges of his tattoo curled over his shoulders and up the back of his neck, beautiful and strange, the black ink stark against his skin. And then there were the marks Adam's thumbs had left over Ronan's windpipe.

The sick feeling in Adam's stomach intensified, threatening to bubble over. Or to burst. “I--” he started, with no idea where to take the sentence from there. Ronan looked at him, stepped closer. “You didn't stop me. You could have.” It came out more accusing than he expected, than he meant it to be. It was true, though. He'd seen Ronan fight.

Ronan was shaking his head. “No,” he said. But he said it like he was trying to diffuse an argument rather than start one. There was no trace of a sneer in his face or voice.

Adam swallowed, not sure what else to say, as Ronan reached out and took hold of his wrist again. He frowned down at the raw marks, thumb brushing over them with extraordinary tenderness. “Adam,” Ronan said, bringing Adam’s hand, fingers outstretched and trembling, to his neck.

Adam flinched away before his fingertips touched the bruises, but Ronan didn't let him go. 

He ended up with his fingers against Ronan's jaw and thumb brushing his chin.

“Adam,” Ronan repeated, more insistently, and Adam met his gaze. “It wasn't you. I know that. Gansey knows it. We all fucking know it.”

“But--” Adam began to protest. It died in his throat as Ronan kissed his thumb and then each of his fingertips. Even though he was so tired he was nearly swaying on his feet, the feel and sight of Ronan's lips on his skin made Adam's blood run hot and his pulse start to pound. 

Adam looked up and met Ronan's gaze again. He pulled Ronan onto the bed, feeling his body teetering right on the knife’s edge of slumber. 

Without hesitation or comment, Ronan shoved Adam over onto his other side, his deaf ear against the pillow, and wrapped himself around Adam. 

Adam held very carefully still as Ronan pressed his forehead against the back of Adam's neck, one hand under the hem of Adam's t-shirt. 

The warmth of Ronan's fingers against his stomach anchored Adam as he drifted off to sleep.

\---

Adam blinked awake. He was tangled in Ronan's sheets, and he felt well-rested and warm and quiet for the first time in ages.

Ronan was no longer wrapped around him, instead seemed to be lying on his back. Adam could feel the heat of one of Ronan's ankles hooked under his own. 

Shifting slightly back against Ronan, Adam stretched. Ronan did not turn to him or curl closer, which made Adam sit up and turn to look at him. 

Ronan was breathing deep and steady, his sharp corners and edges softened and gentled by sleep. The light from the high windows spilled over his face, and Adam reached out to touch him. 

Adam stroked his index finger down the center of Ronan's forehead, over the furrow of his brow, down his fine, straight nose. Ronan didn't stir, and Adam's thoughts began to whirr again. 

Ronan wasn't usually this heavy of a sleeper, unless he was dreaming. And he was never this still, unless he brought something back. 

“Shit,” Adam said, his pulse starting to gallop. What would Ronan's dreams-- nightmares-- be without Cabeswater, after everything Ronan had been through in the past few days? “Fuck, Ronan, wake up.” 

Nothing from Ronan, no sound, no movement. His hands were cupped over his stomach, holding something. Whatever it was he had, it was small. 

Adam looked past Ronan to the door; it was closed, which meant that if Ronan had dreamed a bee or wasp, Gansey was still safe. 

“Ronan,” Adam repeated, turning back to him. Ronan's eyelids fluttered, and Adam was able to gently, cautiously pry his fingers open.

When he saw what was nestled in Ronan's hands, a laugh bubbled out of him, all the tension and fear draining out. Tiny, impossibly green, improbably alive and growing, it was the smallest tree Adam had ever seen. 

He touched one leaf, marveling.

“Look what you made,” he murmured, and Ronan scoffed. His eyes were open now.

“That's nothing,” Ronan replied, sitting up a little. “Easy as shit.”

It wasn't nothing: Adam could see how it would grow, tall and proud. How years from now, Ronan and Orphan Girl could lean against the trunk, take shelter in its shade. Maybe, if they were lucky, it would murmur to them in the evenings. 

Maybe, if _Adam_ was lucky, he could sit under it with them.

Adam leaned down to kiss Ronan. “We should plant it.” 

One of Ronan's hands curled in Adam's shirt. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Adam repeated, fondly sarcastic. Up close, Ronan's uncomplicated smile enveloped Adam, making his heart do something Adam wasn't sure it was made to do.

“I might know a place,” Ronan said finally, pulling Adam down to him again with the hand in Adam's shirt, the other still curled protectively over the seedling.


End file.
